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[[TOC]] [[Page 475]] [[Page 477]] dianablowing, wild as wild, the mockingbird whose word is misfortune, so 'tis said, the bulbul down the wind. The proto was traipsing through the tangle then, Mathew Walker, godsons' goddestfar, deputising for gossipocracy, and his station was a few perch to the weatherside of the knoll Asnoch and it was from no other place unless there, how and ever, that he proxtended aloof upon the ether Mesmer's Manuum, the hand making silence. The buckos beyond on the lea, then stopped wheresoever they found their standings and that way they set ward about him, doing obedience, nod, bend, bow and curtsey, like the watchers of Prospect, upholding their broad- awake prober's hats on their firrum heads, the travelling court on its findings circuiting that personer in his fallen. And a crack [[quattuor|quat-]] [[quattuor|youare]] of [[stenoggers]] they made of themselves, solons and psy- chomorers, all told, with their [[hurts and daimons, spites and clops|hurts and daimons, spites and]] [[hurts and daimons, spites and clops|clops]], not even to the [[seclusion]] of their beast by them that was the [[odd trick of the pack, trump and no friend of carrots]]. And, what do you think, who should be laying there above all other persons forenenst them only Yawn! All of asprawl he was laying too amengst the poppies and, I can tell you something more than that, [[drear writer]], profoundly as you may bedeave to it, he was oscasleep asleep. And it was far more similar to a satrap he lay there with unctuous beauty all surrounded, the poser, or for whatall I know like Lord Lumen, coaching his preferred constellations in faith and doctrine, for old Matt Gregory, 'tis he had the [[starmenagerie|starmenag-]] [[starmenagerie|erie]], Marcus Lyons and Lucas Metcalfe Tarpey and the mack that never forgave the ass that lurked behind him, Jonny na Hossaleen. More than their good share of their five senses ensorcelled you would say themselves were, fuming censor, the way they could not rightly tell their heels from their stools as they cooched down a [[mamalujo]] by his cubical crib, as question time drew nighing and the map of the [[souls' groupography]] rose in relief within their quarterings, to play [[tops or kites or hoops or marbles]], [[curchycurchy]], gawking on him, for the issuance of his [[pnum]] and softnoising one of them to another one, the boguaqueesthers.

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